The Battle of Silver Moon Fort

Hoo—! The sound of a horn rang across the wilderness, tugging at everyone's nerves.

The fully armored orc warriors assembled before Silver Moon Fort.

Judging solely by appearances, they certainly had reason to be proud. Their nearly two-meter-tall bodies looked even more imposing and mighty beneath their armor.

The orcs bared their fangs and claws, loudly hurling poorly pronounced Aldo obscenities at the defenders while making all sorts of lewd gestures with their hands.

Five hundred orc warriors would carry out the assault under Amur's command, while another five hundred or more would cover them with their bows.

The orcs used several kinds of bows. When shooting from horseback, they used Short Bows, which were light, nimble, and easy to handle, but had shorter ranges and less power.

When they dismounted to fight on foot, however, they switched to longbows and heavy arrows. Their longbows were much like those of the human world: nearly as long as an adult man was tall, with long ranges and great power. They could even pierce relatively light metal armor.

Amur looked toward the dilapidated fortress, feeling slightly puzzled.

During their march west, they had encountered no shortage of human warriors brave enough to resist.

But when faced with insults, those warriors would usually shout curses back at them.

The enemies before them, however, were as silent as stone carvings, not uttering a single word.

Their verbal attacks felt like punches thrown into cotton.

"Stop wasting your breath."

Having made up his mind, Amur raised a hand, and his subordinates, who had been cursing enthusiastically, immediately fell silent.

"Warriors of the prairie!"

Before every battle, Amur would give a speech to boost morale. Although he believed it was utterly unnecessary for this particular battle, he was a man who valued ceremony, and not a